Hunted
by Grimm Dolly
Summary: This happens every year. I should be used to it. But something's different this time...


_**Disclaimer**_: Don't own X-men, any related character, they're the sole property of Marvel. Reggie, however, _is_ mine. So nyah.

_**Note**_: This story has been edited and re-uploaded because as I was reading through it today, I happened to notice that the whole _last page and a half_ of it had somehow been cut off. Luckily, I had a backup file of it. So, please enjoy the _complete_ version of this story. It's about 1,000 words longer than the previous upload.

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><p>I can feel it in my bones, just as I can feel the rain pelting my skin in warm droplets. The air all around me is thick with the scent of a summer storm, and in the distance I can see the lightning coming ever closer. The thunder rolls in the sky like a lion's roar and it thrills me, gives me chills that contrast with the heat of the evening. Midsummer in the Midwest. Hah, what a beautiful thing. The dark, pregnant clouds crying on the land, creating ripples in the lake water. The pure white lightning that almost looks blue against the angry clouds. The scent, the sound, the pure ecstasy in the release of all that built up pressure!<p>

I love coming out here on nights like this, sitting by the lake side or crawling up a tree. Yes, it is playing with danger, just begging the lightning to strike me between the eyes. But that doesn't bother me, you see, because I'm not like you. I'm not like them. The people in my town. I've been here for hundreds of years, and they all love me. I am the town mascot, if you will. Medicine woman, wise mistress, goddess. Not a scar on me, but I have seen every war, know every horror story there is to tell, and still have the kindest smile anyone has ever seen. You see, I am an old breed, and there are not many of us left. We were the first of our kind, and it is our genes that mutated and created the others over time.

But that is a story for another time, another place, when the wind isn't howling in my ears and my instincts aren't causing my blood to pound so beautifully hard through my veins. I can feel it in there, bringing life to each part of me, my adrenaline crawling along with it to give me these thrills, these goose-bumps, this wanton _need_! It is like a frenzy, this weather. It makes me want to run. Oh, I haven't done that in years. Too busy playing mother to children not of my womb. But that is not their fault, and I do love them so.

Again, now is not the time for them.

Now is the time for me, and my hunter. Oh, yes, the bane of my existence. Every year he comes, he stalks, and then at the end of summer he runs! He flees my little town and leaves his beautiful scent of musk and sage and everything wild behind him. And it haunts me all year long, until finally he comes again, and I can feel him so close to me, watching me, _wanting _me_._

But he never does act. He sits, he watches, he waits. Though, what he waits for, I could not possibly say. He is young compared to me, though easily over two centuries old. I would place his birth in the early 1800's, maybe... He smells of man and animal both, and I can hear him growl from a mile away. Deep and guttural, and so primal and male.

Just then! There it was! It makes my chest tingle and my body ache suddenly for my own kind. Did I mention we are almost extinct? I know of only two others, and one of them has been stalking me since the last war...

Oh, but he distracts me so!

His scent is carried to me on the rolling wind that howls like the beat of my heart. And I can feel myself sinking down into the grass below the willow tree, shrouded in its leafy vines. I wish I could see him. I want to know if he still looks the same. If his face still feels like worn in leather. If his eyes are still the perfect shade of cobalt. If he still looks at me the same way. He was sin embodied, and my attraction to him will likely be my death.

But I will forgo life to claim him as my own.

And then I feel it. Static of the approaching storm; it makes the hair on my arms stand straight up and my skin to tingle violently. And before I know anything else, there is a presence behind me, and a large hand is curling into the midnight locks of my hair. I gasp as those digits clench and razor sharp claws rake my scalp. I'm on my feet, then off of them, and my back is to the tree trunk, and my skin is aching, and oh heaven – he still looks like a God!

His hair is no longer cropped short – it falls to his shoulder blades and is sun bleached. As always, his cheeks are in need of a shave, but if he did, I might cry. I love the scruff that rubs against my soft cheek as those lips, his lips, graze the shell of my ear. He is breathing into it and his breath is so hot and it burns and I'm burning, and then he says it-

"Scream for me, Reggie."

And I do. But not because he's told me to. I do it because his free hand has come from nowhere and encircled my throat. I can feel the sharpness of his nails against my pulse and soon blood is leaking from beneath them and down my ivory skin. I can smell it, and I'm excited by my own life's source. So, I scream! I scream as if it will save me from death, even though I know nothing will save me from him. I can see the wild animal hiding behind his eyes, prowling and roaring and needing release. They are still that amazing shade, but darker, larger...

"You can do better," he growls out, and every word he utters seems to come from somewhere deep inside of him, where no one but him could reach. His hands are so large and both of them are on me now. I fall to the ground, back skidding across the wet earth. I want him on me so much, but we are not an easy kind, the females of my breed. When he pounces, he meets nothing but emerald grass and the soil beneath, for I have rolled and am on all fours, running around the outer edge of the lake as fast as my limbs will carry me.

I can feel the strain. My muscles are screaming in bliss and begging me to go faster, to push them, to make them hurt again like I used to. To run like my life depends upon it, for surely it does! When my kind look and smell like that, we have become lost to our own demons. Lost to the animal within us. But it is such a beautiful look on him! I will suffer his animal to sate my own tonight. Just not quite yet.

I hear him behind me, roaring at the top of his lungs, and he drowns out the thunder! I feel the ground below me shake and I cannot help but laugh at the freedom in this moment, the sheer wild thirst that is overpowering my entire being. He is right behind me, gaining on me, I can hear him grunt with every powerful forward thrust he makes against the ground, and my god I wish he were thrusting against _me_!

My rationality is gone, I know, or else I would be trying much harder to escape. I am older, wiser, faster. Not as strong, but I wouldn't need it if I were really trying to be rid of this man, my likeness, my hunter. All I know is that I want to stay two steps ahead, nothing more. We are halfway around the lake now, and there is an outcropping of rock. My little hideaway, my wild home. I lunge for it and disappear inside faster than a flash of lightning above us.

"Here, kitty, kitty... Come get me."

In the pitch dark, I can see it when he tumbles in, growling and rolling toward the opposite wall. I laugh, and the sound echoes off the walls even as I climb back out and begin my wild run again. He must have skid so fast across the floor! I wish I could have seen it. I can almost taste his fury and I know I'm pushing all of his buttons, testing his patience and his resolve. But mine is unwavering. I will have him, and he will be more than welcome to me.

There he is! Right there, so close, clawing after my heels like a wild thing. He is furious and I can just imagine him seeing red. The red of my blood staining his hands, the sound of my screams in his ears like the sweetest siren's song. I want him to want me, but in my desiring daydreams, I have lost my footing, and I slip for just a second, but that was all he needed – the only opening that sealed my fate. Had I been anyone else, I would have cried for my fate! But I am not anyone else.

He is on my back, hand buried once again in the curly tendrils of my hair. My cheek is shoved into the ground and his breath is warming my neck. He's breathing so hard, and not from exertion. I feel it, his erection pressing against my ass, and I could just kill myself for moaning right then. I would have liked to have saved it for a little while longer. And it was not lost on him. I could sense, rather than feel, the smile that formed on his face. I wished I could see his enlarged canines. I remember them, those gorgeous teeth. I have them too, but they seem more beautiful on him.

"Now, why'd you go and do that? You're not afraid of me, are you, Kitten?" And he chuckled, quiet and hoarse with desire. I feel sharp points on my spine and in an instant they are ripping. Ripping through the back of my short, once white dress – ripping through the skin of my back, and instantly I can smell my blood again, seeping through the thin cuts he'd just created. His tongue is on my spine and I cannot help but write below him like a whore, my rear perking up toward him.

This is torture. Such illicit torture!

I want to retort, to say something witty, and it wouldn't be beyond me, but his hands are on my hips and he is flipping me over, burying my sore and bleeding back into the mud. The shreds of my dress are ripped from my body, baring my skin to him in its stripped glory. My nipples are already hard and they are condemned first. His teeth on one, claws on the other, pinching and biting and clawing and poking and sucking and oh my god it's perfect!

"Victor!" My lips are dry, and still his name is the sweetest word I've ever spoken.

He stops, turning his wild eyes on me, a purely visceral smile tugging at his mouth. His eyes crinkled a bit, and his malicious gaze was so delightful that I quivered below him and reached my hands up, touching him as if he were an old lover. And he let me, eyes amused at my actions for surely no woman had ever treated him like a god and not a monster. And monster he may be, but he was _mine_ this time!

"You remembered..."

Hard mouth crashed against mine, and until now I had forgotten all about the rain. It was coating me in wetness and it dripped from him onto my body and made his hair wet and dark, and the smell on him intensified tenfold. My hands wandered him, tugging at him, pushing, shoving, pulling, needing, and soon, though I don't know how anymore, he was as naked as I was. My legs willingly parted for him, and he was between them, and I could feel him again, harder than he had been before.

"What're you waiting for, my Sabretooth? An invitation?" My words are quick, breathless, and full of impatience. He didn't need the encouragement. His hips thrust against mine so fast, so violently that my whole body jerked backward against the ground. I cried out as the first wave of pain swept over me and I could smell more of my own blood well up at the apex of my thighs. I'd be lucky to make it out of this with any left in me.

"You ain't screamin' loud enough, kitten," he purred, words making me shiver even as my arms encircled his shoulders. He was braced on his palms and his hips were finding a steady rhythm. Or as steady as he could be, pounding against me so hard that my ass was making a permanent impression into the ground. Rarely did his eyes leave me. If they were not on my face, they were roving the rest of my body, frequently pointing down at where we were connected. I followed his gaze and found myself moaning as if I had stumbled upon something so secretly erotic.

He was long, thick and impressive in ways I didn't think another man ever could be. I saw my own blood coating him, the lubricant to his ravaging of my body. I don't know how long I'd watched the piston-like movement of him beating my hips with his, but soon I heard the growl rumbling in his chest and his hand was around my throat again, cutting off so much of my air that I could get were gasps. It was like breathing through a wheat stalk!

Victor laughed and held fast, staring at me all the while, at the way my eyes clouded over and grew hazy in my lust. I knew he was aware I was close to my brink, and if that did anything to him, it simply made him more adamant. Instead of a half-rhythm, there was nothing now, just the frenzied thrust of him in and out of my body and the guttural sounds coming from his mouth. I couldn't make any.

And there it was, my light! All the coiling muscles in my stomach released at once and I could feel myself coating him with the hot, sticky fluid of my desire. My relief. He roared, hot breath on my face, an in the one second it took for his hand to move away from my throat, his mouth was on it, and his teeth were in me, and I knew my blood was leaking freely onto his tongue. Driving him wild. Claws in my hips, he forced me up against him, riding out my orgasm with painful clarity. Every shove against my clenching walls rocketed up my spine and left me gasping.

"You didn't scream." He sounded utterly offended. One large hand came up, then down, striking my cheek with a resounding smack in the air. I moaned, and his fingers tangled in my hair as he removed himself from me and jerked. I was on my stomach in seconds, and again he was behind me, tugging my hips up into the air, back toward him. Using my hair as leverage, Victor pushed his way back into me, hips smacking my ass. That sound was erotic to me, and I begged for more silently, pushing back toward him with all my might. He laughed at me again.

And then he was all movement. Fury and passion and lust built up into the thrusting of his body against my own. He is so large, he could encircle me with his arms and I would be nearly invisible in such pitiful light. The hand on my hip is once again digging into my skin, and when that gets nothing but a loud moan out of me, he roars again, so close to my ear that it deafens me. Talon-like nails fly from above me, and I see the shadow in a flare of lightning before I feel the sting of his claws across my back, ripping me from shoulder blade to hip.

That finally makes me scream. Louder than I thought I ever could. My lungs feel like they're going to rip right out of my throat, and tears are streaming down my cheeks. Blissful tears. I bite off the end of my scream and he growls at me. I don't see it this time, but he does it again, re-ripping into the marks he's already made, preventing them from healing as fast as they normally would have. Another scream is torn from me, and I can feel him throb inside of me. My back arches and I push against him again, the thunder right above us now and the lightning bathing us in white.

There it is, the static! I can feel him tensing, slowly but surely, though I am still not prepared when his hands shove me down against the ground, keeping just my ass and hips up against him. Both his hands are around my waist, and he's so huge! They're huge! His claws almost touch each other on my stomach, but instead curl into it and place pin-prick holes in my skin. When he releases in a fit of aggression, they sink in, ripping deep gashes into my abdomen that weep crimson onto the wet ground.

He's holding me there, hips glued to me until his twitching stops, and he groans, fully sated in a way I'm sure he's never been. Roughly, he shoves me, rolling me onto my back, making me watch as he licks the blood from his fingertips. One by one he cleans them, offering me his other hand. Didn't need to tell me twice. His face twists in hunger as he watches, not even blinking until his fingers are clean of my blood, though the scent of me still clings to him. He knows I have marked him as much as he has marked me. And I will get to live to do it again.

As if reading my mind, he roars again, backhanding me into oblivion...

When I come to again, he is nowhere to be seen. The moon is peeking through the clouds, and there is a fresh kill by my body.

How clever.

He knew I'd be hungry...


End file.
